


A Letter Home

by SingingMom1716



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Trevelyan family - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 00:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5948383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingMom1716/pseuds/SingingMom1716
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Selene Trevelyan told Josephine she'd ask her family about supporting the Inquisition.  So she did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Letter Home

**Author's Note:**

> This story hit me square in the face today - and would NOT leave me be until I wrote it.

Lady Trevelyan walked down the steps of the Manor house, wringing her hands as she trod the path leading to the outer gates. Every day since hearing about the terrible events at the Conclave, she paced up and down the manicured path, only stopping to gaze past the gates into the fields that encircled the estate. No news was good news, so it was said, yet each day that passed without a word from her youngest daughter was like a knife in her heart.

On this particular morning, she was joined in her walk by her youngest son, Keith, who did all he could to brighten his mother's mood.

“You know our Leenie always lands on her feet, Mother. I'm sure she's fine.”

“Then why haven't we heard anything from her at all, Keith? You'd think Ser Girard would have at least sent a messenger to tell us she was safe, at the very least!” Keith could only shrug at his mother, for she brought up a valid point. Even if Selene was unable to send word herself, Ser Girard would have done so. He was more loyal to the Trevelyan family than the Templars now, having served as Selene's guardian in the Circle from the time she was 14.

As Keith mulled over his response to his mother, a cloud of dust in the distance caught his attention. Squinting into the rising sun, Keith could make out a lone figure on horseback, riding for the estate like an entire hoard of darkspawn was at his heels. Keith stepped in front of the elderly Lady, fingers twitching for the daggers crossing his back. If this was the preamble to an attack, Keith would ensure this rider never returned to his fellows.

The rider only reined in his horse once he reached the closed gate, almost crashing into it regardless. Panting, the rider cried out to the guards on the battlements, “Open up! I have a message from the Herald – I have to deliver it – to the Trevelyans – at once!”

Lady Trevelyan staggered towards the gate, only to be intercepted by Keith.

“Beware, Mother. This could be a trap. Go back to the Manor – I'll see to this messenger. Besides, Father should know what's going on, yes?”

Nodding at his logic, Lady Trevelyan hastened up the path, her footsteps quickly growing faint. Once he was sure his mother was truly going back to the Manor, Keith called up to the guards.

“Open the gate. Let's see what this so-called Herald wants with us.”

After a barked acknowledgment, the gate slowly creaked open, and the messenger guided his horse through, both beast and rider on the verge of collapse. White foam flecked across the horse's flanks, and its eyes rolled white in its head, making it obvious to Keith the messenger rode long and hard to reach them. Catching the bridle of the horse, Keith walked them towards the stables, his initial suspicion replaced with concern.

“Here, let me help you. By the Maker - did you stop to rest at all on your journey?” The messenger swayed in the saddle, still breathing heavily, each word a struggle as he tried his best to answer.

“Couldn't stop – had to – get the letter through – Herald's request.” Keith raised a brow at the word “Herald”, offering a hand to the messenger to help him dismount once they reached the stableyard.

“Who is this Herald of whom you speak? We know no family with that name, nor anyone with that title.” Keith caught the messenger under his arm, as the young man's legs gave out the moment his feet touched the ground.

“Herald – Lady Trevel-” The messenger fainted in Keith's arms, as understanding dawned in the nobleman's eyes. Hefting the messenger onto his shoulders, Keith called out to the stablehands.

“Take care of this poor horse – the creature raced long and hard to get his master here. Walk him well, and make sure he gets extra water and the finest oats. I'll get this poor fellow up to the house.”

A couple hours later, the messenger was resting by the fire, a good meal and spiced wine in his belly. Cam, as he introduced himself, seemed much more at ease once he pressed the heavy envelope he carried into Bann Trevelyan's hands. Leaving young Cam to doze, the Bann called for his family, gathering them all into his spacious study. Besides the Bann and his Lady wife, the Manor was home to Henry - the heir apparent, Henry's wife Susanna, Phillip, Elizabeth, and Keith. Selene was the youngest of the Trevelyan siblings, and the only one with magic. Yet even though she had been sent to the Ostwick Circle just after her fifth birthday, her father made sure she was a part of the family, using the family's power and piety to insure Selene never felt abandoned.

Once everyone was present, the Bann cracked the seal of the envelope, and with trembling hands, he unfolded the parchment, slowly reading the elegant, distinctive script.

_To my beloved family:_

_First and foremost, by the Maker's grace and Andraste's mercy, I am alive. Whatever you may have heard about the Conclave's destruction and the Breach that opened in its wake, the reality is much worse. The Temple of Sacred Ashes is now a smoldering crater, and our Divine is dead. Even seeing the devastation with my own eyes, I hoped beyond hope that at least some of the others from my Circle's delegation survived. But all my hopes were dashed – the First Enchanter, I barely recognized him as even being human. And dear Ser Girard.. I was only able to identify him because of our house colors on his helm. May he and all we lost find rest and peace at the Maker's side._

_Unfortunately, Divine Justinia's death has shattered the Chantry to its very core. Instead of addressing the grave danger of the Breach, the destructive force it brings to bear against all of Thedas, the remaining clerics instead bicker and squabble among themselves, as effective as a chicken without its head. In fact, the only ones doing anything to restore order and help those affected by this disaster is a splinter group calling itself the Inquisition. Founded by the Right and Left Hands of Divine Justinia, they are slowly building influence enough to truly help refugees already reeling from the Mage/Templar conflict._

_As you may have guessed, I have joined this Inquisition. Not only is it the right thing to do, but the aftereffects of the Conclave's destruction left me with an odd green mark on my left hand – one I can use to seal the rifts that have spawned since the Breach formed in the sky. Having this mark has made the pilgrims think of me as “The Herald of Andraste” - like I could ever compare to the Bride of the Maker, but there is no dissuading the people at this point. The title weighs heavily upon me, but I will bear it as a Trevelyan should. The refugees have been through so much – I cannot and will not abandon them now._

_If good intentions were all one needed to save the world, the Inquisition could do so within minutes. Sadly, far more than good intentions are needed, and thus I come to the other reason I write to you. Our Ambassador, Lady Josephine Montilyet (from the delightful Antivan family we used to see when Great-Aunt Lucille used to host her summer fetes) asked if she could contact you to ask for your support for the Inquisition. I told her that you would respect such a request if it came from me directly. Therefore, I humbly ask for the full support of my beloved family. I cannot imagine doing any of what has been asked of me without your help. Even though I spent most of my life within the walls of the Ostwick Circle, I never felt like an outsider. “Modest in temper, bold in deed” - I hold that motto close to my heart, and still strive to follow it to the best of my ability._

_Please send your reply back with Cam – and please be sure he rests. He wants so much to help the Inquisition, to where he will ride himself into the ground. I love you all and miss you all terribly – though my braids are thankful to not be tugged by Keith._

_Ever your daughter and sister,_

_Selene_

_PS: Please also send back some of our sun-dried tomatoes and tarragon – Ferelden cuisine is every bit as bland as we've heard._

Bann Trevelyan took a long, deep breath, gazing with shining eyes at his family, all of whom stared back at him. Susanna discreetly wiped away stray tears, while Lady Trevelyan openly wept. Keith's hid a smirk at his sister's jibe, keeping his expression sober in deference to his mother. At last, the Bann spoke.

“Well, you know what we have to do.”

Henry stood, bowing to his father. “I'll prepare a caravan right away. Foodstuffs, arms, armor – all of our best.” Bann Trevelyan nodded, with a grateful smile for his eldest son.

“Thank you, Henry. Phillip, put together two squads of soldiers. They will not only guard the caravan on its way to Haven, but they will stay with this Inquisition. I can only imagine what sort of men they have currently.” Phillip wrinkled his nose at his father's words, standing and bowing as his elder brother had.

“Raw recruits and farmers, most likely. She'll need proper men – and quickly. A mix of youth and experience should serve her well.”

“I trust your judgment on this, Phillip.” The Bann then turned his attention to his daughter and daughter-in-law. “Haven is in the mountains, as I recall. I'm sure this Inquisition could do with some of out best wool for warmth.” Both Elizabeth and Susanna stood, dropping into deep curtsies before the Bann, as Elizabeth addressed her father.

“We just dyed a fine worsted-weigh yarn – it can be woven into blankets to keep even the coldest winds at bay.” Susanna chimed in, “Blankets, caps, mitts – only the finest for our Selene.” Bann Trevelyan smiled at the ladies, before his expression became serious once more.

“Excellent. Selene sacrificed much, coming into magic at so young an age. And I get the feeling this Inquisition will demand even more sacrifice from her by the time it's all said and done. Whatever we can do to ease her burden, it will be done. Now, you all have your tasks. We will begin in the morning.” And with that pronouncement, the Trevelyan children and mother bustled from the study - all except for Keith.

As the Bann settled back into his chair, Keith approached him, eyeing his father with a quizzical look.

“Father? You didn't give me a task to do for Selene...? You know I would do anything for her.” The Bann nodded slowly, stroking his chin.

“I know, son. Your task.. is to accompany the caravan. And when it reaches Haven, you will stay. I've heard some about these Hands of the Divine, and while they might have our Selene's best interests at heart, I'd rest easier knowing family was watching out for her.” Keith nodded slowly, his mouth set in a thin line.

“Understood, Father. No harm will come to her – not while I breathe.”

“I knew I could count on you, my boy.” The Bann sighed, gazing into the fire. “May the Maker watch over us all in these dark times.” Keith squeezed his father's shoulder, watching the flames dance, murmuring softly.

“Though all before us is shadow, yet shall the Maker be our guide. We will not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.”

The Bann laid his weathered hand upon Keith's, the two men passing a long moment together in silence, save for the crackling logs in the fireplace.


End file.
